


Different Voices

by Naomida



Series: Fire Meet Gasoline [18]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Bronze Dragonflight, Comitting Treason and Saving the World, Gen, Multi, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naomida/pseuds/Naomida
Summary: Despite appearances, Lidya isn't the only one against the war.
Relationships: Koltira Deathweaver/Thassarian, Ly'leth Lunastre/Thalyssra, Ravandwyr/Vargoth (Warcraft)
Series: Fire Meet Gasoline [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/655244
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Different Voices

“Fight with us!” yelled Cary as she pushed the tauren to the ground, her nails planted in his shoulder, pressing him down, tears of pure rage rolling down her cheeks, her teeth gritted so hard that it hurt. “They’re nothing to you! You saw what they did!”

Mitawa gently touched her waist, looking as calm as always.

The night had set three weeks ago, and hadn’t stopped since then. Tyrande had invoked the Night Warrior, and the reconquest had started, and the only thing that had made Cary stop was seeing the other druid _here_ of all places, wearing the Horde’s colors.

“They’re nothing to you!” she repeated between her teeth, her accent thicker than usual as she started shaking and her friend gently shushed her, wrapping him arms around her and holding her tight.

“I know...” he whispered, accent even thicker than hers. “I’m Highmountain before anything else,” he murmured against her ear, “but I can’t leave my people like that, not after we just joined the Horde and our brothers from Thunder Bluff.”

“They killed everyone!” was the only reply Cary could give him, still angry, still crying, still shaking, knowing that none of these things would stop anytime soon for her, not after what had happened.

“I know, and there will come a time when they pay for it, but for now, you have to understand that it is only from the inside that I can help stop them.”

That had Cary become very still and meet his eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not fighting alone,” smiled Mitawa.

  
  


  
  


***

  
  


  
  


They all had their orders, but Koltira couldn’t help but think that he was left with the mission no one wanted to get, and while usually he would whine about it for a few minutes before getting to work, he was in a bad mood that night, and therefor was just sitting on a root jutting out from the ground, grumbling under his breath in Thalassian, his arms crossed.

Thassarian, who was standing up next to him, simply sighed for the fourth time in a minute. Koltira didn’t even know why he was here when the big boss hadn’t even given him a job, but he supposed people were so used to seeing the two of them together now, that it was simply implied that they would have to stick together.

Well, too bad for everyone, Koltira was not in the mood.

“When will you stop being mad?” asked the human after a while, using Thalassian, probably because he knew that his accent always made Koltira melt.

 _Not tonight buddy_ , he grimly thought.

“I’ll stop once the world stops making me mad.”

Thassarian gave a humorless chuckle, looking down at him and meeting his eyes.

“You might die of old age before that happens,” he said, making Koltira roll his eyes. “Come on, it’s not even that bad.”

“It _is_. This place sucks,” he said, gesturing at the swamp around them with a hand, “the world has gone to shit once again, and the only people that can stop it are either M.I.A or actively participating in this shitty war.”

“It’s not our first faction war, Koltira.”

“No, but it’s the first one since we all held hands and actually worked together.”

Thassarian sighed again, but this time Koltira knew it was because he was conceding him this point. The war against the Legion had been long and hard, but it had been an excuse to get the death knights out into the world again, and actually _meet_ people – and while he would never admit it, _ever and to anyone_ , it had felt good to not be judged or looked at like an abomination and to work with people that weren’t a part of his order.

And the demon hunters had been nice and had managed to take the spotlight for the most hated elves, so that had been a cool change.

Now though… Now the factions were at it again, pitting everyone against each other and expecting things to go smoothly, but the Deathlord wasn’t about to let that happen, nor the Lich King himself, which was weird but he’d have to think about it later. For now, he had some people to find, some trolls to kill, and a world to save, apparently.

But first, he was going to pout about it while his boyfriend stayed by his side sighing.

“Could you at least tell me what the Deathlord told you before we left?” asked Thassarian after a while, and Koltira, whose gaze had drifted off to some weird and disproportionate insect crawling on the ground, sharply looked back at him, his stomach lurching a little like it always did when Thassarian was looking at him with that intensity.

“She told me to be careful.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but she had specifically told him to be careful _with Thassarian_. They were in the middle of contested territory, but way too close to the Horde for comfort, and she had been very graphic about what would happen if his dear human undead was to get captured – not that he had needed it, the memory of what Sylvanas had done to him all those years still fresh in his mind and body.

Thassarian said nothing, but he knelt down on the ground and grabbed Koltira’s hands in his, looking deep into his eyes, and for a second the elf couldn’t help the slight shake in his fingers nor the way his dead heart started beating faster in his chest.

That human had been the only one to look for him, for all these years. He had been the one to approach the Deathlord when the Legion campaign had started, to request that they finally go and get him back. Had been the one to hold him close every time he woke up screaming and sobbing, the memories clawing at his sanity.

They had done pretty much everything together ever since undeath had taken Koltira, and not for the first time he hoped his eyes showed Thassarian what his mouth couldn’t say – how much he appreciated him, how thankful he was for him, how much he _loved_ him.

“I’m not letting anyone get to you,” said Thassarian, his deep voice making Koltira shiver, his tone as intense as his eyes as he gently squeezed the elf’s hands in his, “never again, do you understand?”

Koltira nodded slowly and bent his head down and closed his eyes when Thassarian reached up to kiss him, letting go of his hands to bury his fingers in long white hair, pulling the human closer as he parted his lips and kissed him back.

_Fuck, they hadn’t done that in a while_ . Just the two of them, kissing somewhere far from the Acherus or the Citadel, taking their time and appreciating it as much as they ought to.

Thassarian made a soft noise at the back of his throat, wrapping his arms around Koltira’s waist and moving closer, until they were practically chest to chest, the difference in heights a nice change.

Someone cleared their throat, but they kept on kissing for a few seconds, Koltira refusing to look away from Thassarian as he leaned back, tucking hair behind the human’s ear instead.

He was suddenly in a much better mood, as he looked up at the blood elf standing there and frowning while Thassarian was jumping to his feet and turning to face their visitor too.

“Sorry for the interruption,” said Aethas, tone dripping with sarcasm, and Koltira rolled his eyes and got up, taking a few steps so he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Thassarian.

“You’re late, we had to find a way to make time pass faster.”

It was Aethas’ turn to roll his eyes, but he didn’t reply, instead grabbing a tightly rolled up parchment from his pocket and handing it to the human, his eyes staying planted in Koltira’s.

“This needs to get to him as soon as possible,” he said, and the two death knights already knew who he was talking about – and it was strange, to think that Aethas had once been a member of the Council of Six, had been important enough to know what had happened with the Lich King on that fateful day, and that he was now charged with tasks as low as being a courier. The Alliance had taken everything from him, and yet he was still willing to fight to put an end to the war.

Koltira admired his strength.

“Archmage Lidya was spotted in Vol’dun a few days ago, but no one has seen her since. We know that she travels the sea with a bunch of pirates, but not much else. I’m still working to make contact, but the Chamber of the Guardian in Dalaran is sealed and I can’t get in.”

T he death knights nodded, and the parchment disappeared into one of Thassarian’s numerous pockets.

It was now Koltira’s turn to share the news then.

A lot of forces were at work, and he hadn’t frankly realized how deep this entire war was getting until he had been assigned for this mission, and he sure as fel didn’t want to be there when Lor’themar and whoever else read the content of the rolled parchment he gave Aethas.

“The dragons are with us,” he simply said, meeting the elf’s surprised eyes with a stony face. “Archmage Khadgar has disappeared off the face of Azeroth, but so did most of the mages that didn’t join a side. We’re still tracking the Shadowblade, but it’s gonna take a lot longer to close in on him.”

Aethas gave a nod at that.

“You should know the night elves have attacked the Horde in Darkshore,” he said, putting the parchment away too. “They have a chance at actually winning this fight.”

Thassarian and Koltira exchanged a look, and it was the human with his accented Thalassian who started talking.

“You should let this play out on its own,” he said, which only made Aethas frown harder.

“Why?”

“As we said,” replied Koltira, “the dragons are with us.”

It dawned on Aethas, he could see it on his face, and the elf simply pursed his lips and gave a short nod, before teleporting himself away, and just like that Thassarian and Koltira were all alone again, in the middle of Nazmir and its horrible giant bugs.

“Now that it’s done,” said Koltira, turning to Thassarian and wrapping his arms around his neck, looking up at the human with hunger, “where were we?”

“Koltira it’s not–” started Thassarian, but he let Koltira kiss him and push him back against a tree – and after a few seconds, he even grabbed Koltira’s ass and pushed his tongue into the elf’s mouth.

  
  


  
  


***

  
  


  
  


T uralyon got out of the war council room in long, angry strides, not paying any attention to the people getting out of his way.

He was furious, shaking with it, barely able to contain it as he gritted his teeth, squeezed his fingers in tight fists and thundered out of the Keep, along the canals, somewhere as far as possible from that damned room as fast as possible. He had left Romuul back there, and he would feel guilty about it later. For now, he needed to get away before making a mistake – like swiftly getting rid of king Greymane.

It had been a mistake to come here – Stormwind, the Eastern kingdom, Azeroth at large – and not for the first time that idea made a pang of guilt stab him in the stomach. He couldn’t think that, not after fighting for so long and wishing to be back home – even if home had been destroyed a long time ago, and this wasn’t anything close to it.

He had had only one goal for so long, had put his entire being in it, had lived and breathed only for that, and now that this goal had finally been attained, now that the Legion was finally defeated, he couldn’t help the bitter taste in his mouth.

He needed a new purpose, and the only one the Alliance was giving him was a mindless war that was heading to the destruction of everything they had ever loved.

He couldn’t let them use him, not like this, not after everything he had given.

“Father!” yelled a familiar voice, and Turalyon stopped dead in his tracks, closing his eyes just for a heartbeat, before he was turning around and watching Arator jog up to him.

His son had the grace of elves and the bulk of humans, and as he stopped right next to him, Turalyon couldn’t help but smile and raise a hand up to cup his cheek.

“My son,” he said, feeling some of the fury draining out of him.

“Father,” said Arator, visibly worried as he searched his eyes, “is everything okay? I know the meeting was difficult but...”

“Don’t worry about me,” he replied, thumbing at his son’s cheekbone.

He had the same as Alleria, but thinking about her only reminded Turalyon that he hadn’t seen her in a month, and that he had no idea where she was or what she was doing.

They had stayed strong for so long on Argus, only to implode the second they had gone back to Azeroth. It was pathetic.

“Is everything okay?” repeated Arator as Turalyon only looked deep into his eyes.

He knew exactly what he had to do, no matter what Alleria or Greymane or Anduin Wrynn thought about it. He had sacrificed too much to see the world take the direction that it was taking now. The Lightforged could do whatever they wanted, but he wasn’t about to let anyone use him or what they had all accomplished on Argus.

“Yes. Tell me Arator, how do you feel about stealing a ship?”

Arator frowned, looking for one second like he was worried about his father’s mental health, and Turalyon couldn’t exactly fault him for that – his armor had been too good until now, but it had been the last straw, he couldn’t pretend anymore.

“Father… what’s going on?”

“We cannot let this war happen while we sit on the side and watch them kill each other, so I’m asking you my son: how do you feel about stealing a ship?”

“If it is the only way you can see, then I’ll do it with you.”

Turalyon smiled. He knew he had Romuul on his side, and Velen, and now Arator – who was the most important one, the only person whose opinion he really cared about.

“Good,” he said, letting go of his face to clasp his shoulder. “Go get your armor on, we’re going to take the Vindicaar.”

“Father!” exclaimed Arator, apparently not expecting _this_ to be the ship in question, but Turalyon simply grinned, and started walking again.

“Come on! We don’t have all day, time is of the essence!”

Arator spluttered for a second, before hurrying along with him.

  
  


  
  


***

  
  


  
  


Thalyssra was trying her hardest to relax and stop thinking for _one second_ , but it seemed like it was impossible that night, and Ly’leth sensed it because she emerged from between her legs only a half minute later, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know why I can’t focus, I’m sorry,” murmured the Grand Magistrix with a smile as Ly’leth kissed the corner of her lips and laid down on top of her, tucking her face against Thalyssra’s neck and starting to kiss the skin there.

“It’s all those responsibilities… I told you to let Oculeth take some of it… now look at you… too busy even for me.” she gave a nip at the end of her sentence, making Thalyssra laugh as she squeezed Ly’leth against her chest.

“Never too busy for you.”

“Good,” replied Ly’leth, getting on an elbow to be able to look down at her eyes, “so tell me, what is worrying you so much?”

“This war… I was given a very dangerous choice.”

“Alright.”

“And I know what to do, but I don’t know how to do it while keeping our people safe.”

“Mmmh.”

For a second she seemed to ponder over the question, before shrugging a shoulder and moving to lay next to Thalyssra.

“I can’t help you, but maybe we should switch places. Focusing on one task might give you the idea you seek.”

Thalyssra chuckled, knowing that there was no way she was thinking about Rommath while going down on Ly’leth, which was exactly while she immediately rolled on top of her and did just that.

  
  


  
  


***

  
  


  
  


Mahk had gone blind in his left eye a very long time ago, and he was used to it by now. It didn’t mean he particularly liked it when enemies made a point of standing to his left.

He frowned and tried to focus on what his colleagues were talking about.

“It’s not like we have a choice,” was saying Myrel, the one and only human Mahk had met in his life that he didn’t outright despite.

Myrel had been young when they had met and Mahk had been the one to introduce him to the art of being a warlock. They had been allies at the time, Mahk with his clan, part of the Horde, and Myrel with his King. Alterac had been destroyed for a while now, and they had been separated for a lot of years, but their path had crossed again when the Legion had started its invasion of Azeroth, and it had been natural to start working together again.

Aerron snorted, the sound making Mahk grit his teeth because the elf was sitting to his left, just outside of his sight enough that it was annoying.

The demonology expect wasn’t like Myrel – calm, collected, knowledgeable. He was a stupid young blood elf, not even old enough to be considered an adult by Mahk’s standards, and he was unbearably detached from everything, always crossing his arms and pouting.

Myrel had once called him a teenager, and Mahk was pretty sure it was the human equivalent of what he thought.

“We always have a choice,” said Aerron, leaning his elbows on the table they were sitting around and leaning on it, appearing in Mahk’s eyesight, “we’re just determined to make the wrong one.”

“There’s nothing for us in this war,” replied Myrel, leaning closer too, his face growing harder. Mahk knew him enough to know that he was getting agitated – and that was never good news – but he didn’t want to intervene for now because as much as it pained him, Aerron was right.

“But we’re already too involved to back down now! They think we are with them, let’s play this to our advantage!”

No one replied to this, and after a while Aerron slapped the table with his palm, squaring his jaw.

“We could stay hidden in our little pocket dimension until we all die of old age, which is, not to be rude, closer for you two than for me. We can watch as the world bleeds out and they all kill each other, until there is nothing left, and I know someone here likes destruction,” he said, turning to look at Mahk for the first time since the beginning of this meeting, “but I believe that the two of you actually care about the survival of our world as much as me. You proved that during the campaign against the Legion. Let’s continue in that direction now that we are needed more than ever. Let’s be smart about it. Let’s work together, in the shadow, where we ought to be, for a better outcome than the one currently coming to us.”

Myrel opened his mouth to reply to this, looking even more agitated than before, but Mahk spoke before he could, talking for the first time since he had arrived, commanding silence like he usually did.

“It pains me to say it, but you’re right, and I know exactly what our first action must be.”

The dragon had come to him only a few hours before this meeting. Mahk was smart enough to recognize him – he had heard about him and it wasn’t hard to know what all the power the elf had exuded had meant.

 _The Archmage needs to survives. It is imperative for our collective survival_ , he had said, and Mahk hadn’t needed to ask which Archmage he was talking about, or even why someone as powerful as him – someone who could see through time and space – felt the need to warn him of this.

Some things were a mystery, but others just required wisdom, and Mahk was old enough to have seen the downfall of his own native world. He had crossed the Dark Portal knowing that there was no going back for any of them, and he wasn’t about to give up on Azeroth so soon.

He got up, and took the time to meet eye with both of his counterparts.

“Let’s go,” he said, “I heard the person we have to help is still somewhere in Dalaran.”

The two other Netherlords frowned, but they still followed his lead.

  
  


  
  


***

  
  


  
  


“This isn’t right!” angrily whispered Zidormi.

Chronormu simply shook her head, looking sad but not as angry as she should have been.

“We can’t let this go on.”

“It’s the only way we found.”

“Maybe things should be kept like they are, maybe this is for a good reason that we strayed so much.”

“Or maybe we are heading straight into destruction,” said a voice behind them, and Zidormi closed her eyes for a second. Of course Andormu would hear and come by. He had probably voted for the solution the Dragonflight had debated about. He had probably been the one to come up with it.

Still, Zidormi wasn’t about to back down, and she turned to face him, unsurprised to find his sister Nozari standing right next to him.

“This is a dangerous game, we are playing,” she warned.

Nozari simply pursed her lips while Andormu took another step closer and frowned.

“What other choice did we have?” he asked, gesturing vaguely with his right arm at all the portals around them.

They were in a little alcove in the less frequented part of the Cavern of Time, and Zidormi had hoped that there, no one would walk in on her little chat with Chronormu. She should have known better.

“Timelines don’t stray so far without good reasons.”

“Maybe the reason was that we needed to intervene,” replied Andormu, raising his chin.

“Or maybe the reason eludes even the masters of time,” she replied, taking another step to him and raising her chin too.

For a second, they simply threw daggers at each other with their eyes. Had they been in their real form, Zidormi would have been too small to look into his eyes without craning her neck, but it turned out that her human form was as tall as his elf’s.

“It doesn’t matter now anyway,” said Nozari, “it’s already done.”

“And we’ve already spoken with the Archmage.”

“She’ll take it as a betrayal,” warned Chronormu, and when Zidormi turned to look down at her, she finally saw the disgust that she had hoped to find in the gnome since they had been told about the dragonflight’s plan about the war. “She won’t trust anyone else.”

“We played the part we needed to play. The rest of it is out of our hands.”

Nozari nodded at her brother’s word, and added, “but don’t forget that we’ll keep an eye on you, just to make sure you don’t try to do more than your role.”

Zidormi gritted her teeth, and promised herself that she wouldn’t let them break their best bet at keeping Azeroth alive.

  
  


***

  
  


  
  


Despite everything that he had lived through – the absolute annihilation of Draenor and the destruction of the Sunwell, for example – there were still a good number of things that made Ravandwyr panic, and seeing Vargoth in the state that he was in at this moment was at the top of that list.

“You need to take a deep breath and tell me exactly what happened,” said Ravandwyr, trying to be as gentle as possible as he took the book that Vargoth was holding out of his hands and gently put it down on the bed.

Vargoth simply sent him an annoyed look, that didn’t frankly look well with his pale skin and the shaking in all of his limbs, before grabbing the book and throwing it in the opened bag on the bed. Said bag, that he had been filling with panic when Ravandwyr had walked into their bedroom.

“I’m sorry, ansurfador,” said Vargoth, his voice calm, unlike his body. “I’m so sorry, I can’t tell you anything, not yet, but I need to go.”

“Go where?”

For a second, Vargoth stopped moving, simply breathing too fast as his eyes searched Ravandwyr’s.

“Far from here,” he replied after a moment, grabbing the photo of the two of them that was on the night table and gently putting it in the bag, before closing it. “Far from Lidya,” he said, not meeting the elf’s eyes this time. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could tell you why, I really do but… this is bigger than me, and if I stay, I won’t be able to do what I have to do.”

“Because you sincerely think that I will let you go all alone Light-knows-where while you are in this state?” asked Ravandwyr, pretending like his heart hadn’t stopped beating for a second or two when Vargoth had pronounced Lidya’s name.

Surely she couldn’t have done anything bad enough to have Vargoth react like that?

It must have been a result of the demonic possession Vargoth had been victim too for so many months, like a lot of their problems.

“If you leave with me,” said Vargoth very slowly, his voice as vulnerable as his eyes, “she will be alone.”

“I’m not letting you go before I know everything.”

For a second, none of them moved.

Ravandwyr didn’t know what Vargoth saw in his eyes, but suddenly he exhale shakily, and held his hand out to him.

The elf took it without thinking, letting Vargoth teleport them away from Dalaran.

  
  


  
  


***

  
  


  
  


Lidya was in her office in the Hall of the Guardian when two things happened at the exact same time. The alarm she had placed all over Dalaran started blaring, signifying that someone who wasn’t part of the Kirin Tor had stepped into the city, and the enchanted gem on her desk started flashing purple light. She had given this gem’s twin to the Howlis brothers, so they could keep in touch in case something happened and required Lidya to quickly go back to the boat.

She had only left the pirates a day before. It must have been _really bad_ for them to ask her back so quickly, but unfortunately she had most pressing things to do – like stop a potential invasion of her city.

Thankfully, as she teleported to the place where her protection spell had been activated – Krasus Landing, of all places – she didn’t find any kind of army or assassin.

Just the three Netherlords.

“Archmage,’” said the orc with only one eye standing in the middle.

Lidya knew he was their unofficial leader, and she knew that having them visit her was very bad news. The Highlord had told her they had joined the war, but maybe he had been wrong.

“Let’s go somewhere private,” she told them, before teleporting everyone to her office to get down to business as fast as possible.


End file.
